


There's a First Time for Everything (or Why Only Good Things Come from Spying on Wood Elves!)

by Sally_the_Sunflower



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Eventual Fluff, First Time, He has no control over it, He was only curious, Light Smut, M/M, Mairon has an active imagination, Mairon thinks consent is sexy, Melkor's always willing to help out his Maia, angbang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 11:03:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19149730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sally_the_Sunflower/pseuds/Sally_the_Sunflower
Summary: Mairon discovers that there's a lot more to the birds and the bees where the Elves are concerned than he had previously thought. When Melkor offers him his help in exploring this revelation he happily agrees, though with no motivation deeper than satisfying his own curiosity about the act. As time wears on however, Mairon begins to anticipate the day Melkor makes good on this offer for reasons far removed from his own curiosity. It's really inconvenient when you're trying to get some work done!





	1. In Which Melkor Regrets Asking

"Do you have something you wish to share with us, lieutenant?"

Mairon's attention snapped back to his master and the rest of the generals seated around the table. His mind had wandered far from the topic of discussion, replaying an event he had witnessed while he had last been away. He shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat. It wasn't the kind of thing you shared at a meeting of the war council.

"Perhaps you have thought of some additional comments to add to your report of your journeys?" Melkor continued. Mairon dared not look away from his master, but he didn’t need to, to know that all eyes were trained on him. He could feel them.

"No, my Lord. I have nothing else I wish to add. I have given you a complete account." This was mostly true. Definitely not a lie at any rate. He had told all there was to tell about his meeting with some of the Men of the East. He had been sent to sway them to the Dark Vala's allegiance. It wasn't much of a challenge. Men were easy. They were always eager for more, always eager to be made feel important, and thanks to the Valar taking nowhere near the same level of interest in them as they had the Elves, they could always be fed whatever lies popped into Mairon's head about his fellow Ainur. It had become a game of his to make up something new about them every time he spoke to the mortals. Rumours spread better when there were several conflicting versions doing the rounds. No, it had been a simple task and he had told his master every detail of it, just not every detail of his return journey… But it _really_ wasn't the kind of thing you shared at a meeting of the war council.

Melkor eyed him, one unconvinced eyebrow raised. Mairon, feared throughout the land as Sauron, was a master of deception and illusion. He was finely skilled in the arts of pretence, shrouding himself in whatever air best suited his purpose, projecting whatever image he wanted seen. He was a master manipulator that could make anyone believe anything. Unfortunately, spending thousands upon thousands of years working in close proximity with someone means that they tend to know all your faces. Melkor could read Mairon like a book and no amount of posturing was ever going to shake off his suspicions. He knew all his tricks.

"I assure you that there is nothing further that _this chamber_ need hear. I have told you all," he added hoping that the Vala would take the hint and move on. Melkor, being about as subtle as a hammer, did not.

"Then something else occupies your mind. What could be so much more worthy of the mighty Admirable One's thoughts than the war effort? Please, if it is so much more interesting than the points of our agenda, share it. I'm sure everyone else would love to hear what you find so amusing."

Mairon stared at his master in horror, mouth moving soundlessly as he tried to think of some way out. Melkor stared back, waiting for an answer. From the corner of his eye Mairon could see the others at the table nervously glancing from Vala to Maia and back again. All except Gothmog. His gaze was fixed firmly on Mairon, a smirk plastered across his face. The bastard was enjoying this.

"It is not important, my Lord. It would be of no interest to the others."

"I shall be the judge of that."

With that, Mairon felt a familiar nudge at his consciousness. For a moment, he seriously considered denying his master access to his mind, but a second, more insistent, nudge told him that that really wouldn't be wise. Bracing himself in his seat, he opened his mind to his master. He quickly flashed a brief replay of what he had seen and snapped off the connection between their two minds.

They all sat in silence and watched as a myriad of expressions played across their master's face. His initial anger had soon given way to surprise, followed by shock, followed by confusion. The gaze he now used to give Mairon the once over could definitely be described as _judgmental_. Oh, he could really feel all the eyes on him now.

He had shown his master a memory of what he had seen on his return from the East. Though, maybe _watched_ would be a more accurate description? He had been travelling unclad, in spirit form, and as such could not be seen or heard by any unlike himself. On his journey he happened to come near a group of nomadic dark Elves, those Elves that had ignored the summons of the Valar to join them in 'paradise'. He couldn't blame them. He didn't want to go back to that Eru-worshipping shithole either. He had to admit to himself though, he had always been curious what was so different about these Elves that they had seen the Valar and thought _nah_. He had a bit of spare time. So, he investigated. And that's when he saw them. Two of the Elves had wondered off alone. Initially they seemed to just be enjoying the opportunity for a chat or something. But next thing he knew they had ripped their clothing from one another and what followed involved an awful lot of saliva and… _angles_ … that he had not previously thought the Elven body capable of. And when it was all over, they both seemed _very_ pleased with themselves. It was safe to say that the breeding of foul beasts to swell the ranks of the Dark Vala's army had not prepared Mairon for the mating rituals of Ilúvatar's Children.

After taking a moment to process this, Melkor finally spoke.

"I feel we all have enough to think on for the moment. We will reconvene at a later time. You are all dismissed."

The room was filled with the sounds of chair-scraping, foot shuffling and the general murmur of chit-chat as they all made their way out of the room. Mairon watched them go, knowing full well that the dismissal had not included him. Gothmog made sure to get one final look of mock concern in at Mairon before he too departed.

When finally they were alone, Melkor made as if to say something a number of times but he never seemed to be able to settle on a response. The source of his most trusted servant's distraction was most certainly not what he had expected... Eventually two words managed to escape;

"The fuck?!"

Mairon shrugged innocently. Then opened his mouth to respond.

"No, don't," Melkor interrupted with a wave of his hand. Massaging his temples with his fingertips he added, "I'm going to need alcohol for this explanation..."


	2. In Which Mairon Is Way More 'Innocent' Than a Dark Lord Has Any Right to Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melkor and Mairon have a chat. Melkor almost regrets asking again. A deal is struck.

Ainur do not need to eat, but that doesn't mean they don't like doing it. One of the joys of enrobing their spiritual forms in flesh was that they were able to enjoy all the sensations that came with it. Taste was a sensation that Mairon particularly enjoyed. It was so rich. From the sticky sweetness of the honey he liked to add to his tea, to the metallic tang of a prisoner's blood licked off his fingers, taste just made the world that bit more… _vivid_. It was something he liked to indulge in when he could. So, like on many other occasions when he visited his master to make his reports, he now found himself seated at a generously laid table in Melkor's private quarters. This had become a habit of theirs ever since it had been discovered that one particular Elf in Melkor's thraldom, who was singularly bad at mining, was singularly good at cooking. So, the Elf in question had been given a promotion. That is, if you could call being moved into the Dark Lord's household for all eternity a promotion… Mairon was somewhat fuzzy on the details of how this bizarre event had come to pass, but then again, an elf's change in career wasn't really something he cared about.

At this moment in time, however, Mairon almost felt the topic would have made a nice change from the awkward silence they sat in while the servants laid out the food. Melkor hadn't spoken a word as they made their way back to his quarters for their usual post-meeting meal. Obviously, he hadn't been impressed with the meeting being cut short by something so...base. In all honesty, Mairon wasn't quite certain why the scene had occupied him to the extent that it had. It had just been so unexpected, the obscenity of it, especially from those 'perfect' Elves. He and Melkor had often joked about how those pricks were stuck up their own asses, but each other's asses? That was new. And then, of course, there were all the things they had done with their mouths. All that licking, biting, sucking....

Mairon started at the sound of a throat being cleared. Apart from this one noise, he realised, the room was silent. The servants had finished bringing the food and pouring the drinks and had left the two alone. If the look on Melkor's face was anything to go by, this was not a particularly recent development.

"Really, Mairon?" Melkor took an exasperated sip of his wine. "Are you really that horny? Should I just leave you alone with your fantasies for a small while? Something tells me that you're going to be useless until I do. Although," here he took another sip of wine, though Mairon knew this one was solely for the dramatic pause that it allowed, pure Melkor, "You seem to be into watching. Maybe I should stay. You might finish faster." Sarcasm and displeasure dripped from every word.

Mairon found himself a little lost at Melkor's outburst. He didn't quite understand what is was that he was getting at. Unfortunately, Melkor took his confusion as a poor attempt at playing dumb.

"You mean to tell me that there's another reason you just beamed detailed images of Elf-sex directly into my brain in the middle of a council meeting?" Melkor's tone implied he highly doubted the existence of this other reason. "Look, Mai, I really don't care what you get up to in your spare time. Honestly, if you get off on watching Elves fuck in the woods, that's your business, I'm not going to judge! Just, maybe try a little harder to keep it to yourself." Melkor began loading up his plate from the dishes laid out between them. In a much lighter tone he added, "It's not like you to be so distracted. Been a while, has it?" At that, he threw Mairon a smirk.

"Y-You think I make a habit of this. For pleasure?" Now, Mairon was truly lost. "Melkor, really, I..."

Melkor shushed him with a placating wave of his hands. "Mai, I just told you, your private time is your business. You don't need to make excuses to me..."

"No, really, Melkor, listen to me." Melkor stiffened visibly at the interruption. As friendly as the two were in private, there were still rules for dealing with the Vala. Their usual hierarchy was always lurking just under the surface of the informality. Mairon kicked himself for allowing his tongue to run off with him. "Forgive me, my Lord," he added in much calmer tones. He chose to ignore the exaggerated eyeroll the sudden deference earned him from the other end of the table.

"Mairon, get your tongue off my boot and use it to just say whatever it was you were going to say." Despite the apparent annoyance, Mairon could tell that his little overstep had been forgiven. As long as Melkor was the only one giving the orders, he was usually content. He just had an unconventional way of showing it.

Biting back the urge to express his irritation at having to dance around the Vala's ego, Mairon returned to their previous topic of conversation. "I was not watching those Elves for any sort of...entertainment. I was watching them out of curiosity."

Melkor cocked an eyebrow. "Curiosity?"

"Yes. I had never seen Elven mating practices, so I stayed to observe. I hadn't expected it to involve so much...so much."

Melkor's fork stopped halfway to his mouth. "Mairon, did you just call it ' _Elven mating practices_ '?" The look the Vala fixed him with could almost have been described as worried.

Mairon frowned in response, not certain where the inaccuracy was. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his accuracy. "Copulation?" The suggestion just earned him an even more troubled look.

"What do you mean that you didn't expect it to involve 'so much'?"

Mairon looked thoughtful for a moment, "Well, I mostly only have experience with my wolves-" He was too deep in his considerations to notice the clatter as the other dropped his fork at the statement, "-but there seemed to be a lot of superfluous acts. I'm not fully convinced that it was completely normal behaviour. I can't seem to come up with a purpose for all the sucking. Surely, it is just a waste of seed? I mean, you've seen how many Elves there are around. I'd imagine they tend to be more efficient than that. I have a few hypotheses though..." Mairon trailed off into his ponderings for a few moments until he realised that he was being stared at.

Various emotions flickered across Melkor's face as he tried to decide what part of Mairon's speech to address first, though really, there was no competition. "Your wolves?" The words came slowly, as if uttered by someone who knew full well there was a chance of regretting their utterance.

"Where else would I get more wolves?" Such an obvious statement. Where else, indeed.

Melkor shifted somewhat uncomfortably in his seat and cleared his throat. "I just never realised you took such a... hands on approach." Well, apparently even 'since the beginning of existence' wasn't a long enough time to tell you everything about a person. And when that person's a shapeshifter...

"Well, how else do you expect me to keep track of family lines and who's pregnant and when if I'm not involved myself?" Melkor was almost certain there were numerous other ways. "I pick a male and female that I think would produce good quality offspring and I stay around to make sure the coupling actually takes place." Melkor could have melted into his chair with the relief. He had been beginning to think that he would never be able to look a wolf in the eye again. But that just left the rest of Mairon's ramblings.

"Mai, is the breeding of your wolves really the extent of your experience with 'mating practices'?"

"Of course not. I've bred other creatures."

"Aside from the breeding of creatures, though? Anything?"

Once again, Mairon didn't quite understand what Melkor was getting at. "No, just the creatures. Which is why I'm trying to wrap my head around the Elves! Everything else I've seen has just been mount, hump, finish, wait a while, baby. Simple, logical, everything has an obvious purpose."

Melkor couldn't help but laugh at the look of frustration on the other's face. Typical Mairon, everything needed to run smooth and efficient, no excess, no nonsense. "You've really never had sex?"

Mairon blinked at the question. "I can't say it's ever occurred to me. The, eh, wolves didn't exactly make it look that enticing... It always seemed like the means to an end that I just have no use for," he chuckled to himself at that, "I'd imagine I'd be a shit father. I think I'll stick with wolf pups." Then he realised the implication of what Melkor had said. "You have?"

"Mairon, surely by now you know that these physical forms are capable of plenty of pleasures we have no actual use for?" Melkor illustrated his point by indicating the spread before them. "Why not indulge in them?" Melkor's voice had taken on a low, suggestive note. If it caused something to curl in Mairon's stomach, he ignored it.

"I just never thought about it." _Pleasure_. The Elves had definitely seemed to deem it a pleasure.

"You've been thinking about it a lot recently." He wasn't wrong there. Mairon couldn't seem to get the images out of his head. "I know what you're like, you won't rest until you have your answers." He wasn't wrong there either. Mairon was dogged in his quest for knowledge. He had to _understand_. "If you're really so curious about it, why not try it? Trust me, you'll soon realise that there are plenty of reasons to have sex that don't involve pups of any kind."

Silent, Mairon spread some honey on a piece of bread and chewed thoughtfully. When it was gone, he licked the remainder of the honey off his fingers. He closed his eyes as he put a sticky thumb to his mouth. He really did love the sweetness. If there were other indulgences like taste out there, he was definitely curious enough to try them. At the very least, it might satisfy his questions about the Elves and why they did the things they did. There was just one wrinkle in the plan...

"But...who..." an uncharacteristic twinge of embarrassment cut his question short. How did one go about arranging this sort of thing? He couldn't exactly just wander up to someone and ask. Or could he? Was that how it was done? He didn't know. It made him uncomfortable, not knowing things.

"Don't worry about the who, Mai, I'll take care of that," there was that suggestive tone again, this time accompanied by an equally suggestive smile. Mairon was tempted to smile back. It was such a tempting smile.

"You?"

"Why not? I must say, I'm invested in your little experiment now. I can't wait to hear how your hypotheses on 'all the sucking' hold up." At that, he dipped one finger into the sauce of a nearby dish, opened his mouth, and slowly dragged the soiled finger across his tongue. He topped off the gesture with a wink. If the sight caused Mairon's breath to hitch, he ignored that too.

He considered Melkor's offer in silence for a few moments. It made sense. Melkor claimed to have some experience in the matter and he had been the one to suggest that Mairon should conduct a little hands-on research himself. Not to mention the fact that this way Mairon wouldn't have to tell anyone else about his...preoccupations. His curiosity really was getting the better of him. Doing it with Melkor once couldn't hurt, he decided. It would be for research purposes, of course.

"Alright, we have a deal."

Melkor flashed another one of those smiles, "You'll need to be patient a little while longer, while I have a think about this. Promise me you'll drop the fantasies long enough to actually do some work in the meantime? I can't have my second in command palming himself in council meetings" Mairon promised. With arrangements in place for his questions to be answered he was confident that the images plaguing his mind would leave him alone.

The deal struck, the two sat in companionable silence, finally giving the food the attention it deserved. That is, until a wave of anger swept over Melkor's face.

"Wait, this means that you're _not_ fucking that messenger of yours? Ooooh, what's-her-face...? Thwi-, Thil-, Wingth-?"

"Thuringwethil?"

"That's the one! So, you two haven't been doing it all this time?" Mairon shook his head. He was at a loss as to why this seemed to trouble Melkor so much. The Vala grumbled to himself for a moment before adding, "Just don't let Gothmog know that." No worries there, Mairon couldn't think of a single context in which he'd just saunter up to Gothmog and inform him of his lack of carnal relations with his messenger. It took a bit of needling, but Melkor finally explained, "We may or may not have bet on it..." The exact nature of this bet, however, he refused to elaborate on.

That was fine though, Mairon would soon have answers to other questions. In the meantime, his main worry was what else on the table would go well with honey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit (01/07/19): I now have a Tumblr! I'm Sorcha-Eilís over there. I'll be posting links to my stuff from here among other things so please feel free to check it out and reblog my writing!
> 
> On a side note, I know I'm a bit behind with uploading chapter 3, but I have a thesis submission in the next month or two so, unfortunately, I need to prioritise that over writing about Mairon wanting to get his hole XD (Irish slang for sex, in case anyone's wondering!). The chapter is half written though, so it should be up within the week!


	3. In Which Mairon has a Fairly Rubbish Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Mairon wants is a little relaxation but his imagination is having none of it. The poor thing accidentally unearths some deep-buried feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huzzah! Chapter 3 is finally here! Sorry about the delay, but college stress had me feeling decidedly un-funny and there really was no point in inflicting the initial versions of this chapter on ye. They were not pretty. But! this one's extra long! So enjoy!

Mairon made his way down the corridor towards his office. He had returned during the night from his trip to Angband. Having recently spent time in the East at the request of his Lord just prior to his visit to the great fortress in the North, he felt he deserved a little break. Or in other words, he couldn't be arsed to do a tap of work. Luckily for him, he was the king of this castle and was well within his rights to hide in his office all day. People assumed you were busy if you were in your office. 'People' didn't know about the wine. Wine that would be perfect for reclining on the cushioned seat just inside the window. He might even take a book off his shelf. Oh yes, he could definitely feel a day off coming on. After all, what's a day to an Ainu?

 

Looking forward to his peace and quiet, he opened the door into the antechamber of his offices. The former Lord of the watch tower presumably used this room for his secretary or some similar purpose. Mairon didn't bother. Instead, he used the opulently decorated room as a kind of holding space for those who wanted to speak with him. He liked to make them wait. And wait.

 

Unfortunately, the room had another purpose too and he gave a sulky huff as he looked at it. A small mountain of scrolls and letters filled the desk outside the door to his office proper. Since he kept that door locked whenever he wasn't there (and sometimes when he was), anything that arrived that was addressed to him was to be left here in his absence. Now, Mairon loved paperwork. There was just something about things being done the _proper_ way that just made him feel like all was right with the world. But even Mairon had his limits and the backlog that had developed during his trip to the East and subsequent visit to Angband was not pretty. Of course, he could have assigned someone else to take care of some of it while he was away, but then it probably wouldn't have been done _his_ way, and in that case, it might as well have never been done at all. Sometimes, he annoyed even himself with his particularity.

 

Deciding that the mountain was Future-Mairon's problem, he walked straight past it and let himself into his office. Once inside, he made his way to where he'd stashed his wine and poured himself a glass of a clear golden liquid. At this hour of the morning, the sun wasn't yet shining through the window, though it was up and sitting on his cushioned seat would be pleasant, nonetheless.

 

He put the cup to his mouth and sipped, letting the wine sit for a second before swallowing. As usual, he was struck by how much enjoyment he could take from something so simple. Between the good wine on his tongue and the fresh breeze coming in through the window and blowing gently over his skin, this moment was almost perfect. Did the Elves or Humans or Dwarves ever feel amazed by all the subtle sensations their bodies were capable of, he wondered, or was that just an Ainu thing?

 

Of course, this line of thought led his mind elsewhere. As fine as the taste of the wine and feel of the breeze were, there were apparently more...intense...sensations out there for him to try. Melkor had seemed so sure in his insisting that Mairon would like them. Mairon himself was still uncertain. The act just seemed so odd...But that was what research was for! He was glad Melkor had offered to help him. Melkor had been right, Mairon's curiosity would have eaten him up if he didn't get answers to all the questions taking up space in his head. He'd actually written down his hypotheses on the sucking, seeing as even Melkor was interested in how they'd hold up.  He hoped Melkor would allow him to make notes on the experience. Mairon was taking this seriously. He sipped at his wine again. Should he be doing something to prepare for the event? Some background reading perhaps? He'd never go near any new forging or magic technique without having first done his background checks. But where could he find such reading material? He had a vague recollection of Thuringwethil owning books of this sort, but asking her meant, well, _asking_. He frowned at the thought of that conversation and shook his head.

 

Maybe it would be best to just allow Melkor to teach him as he went. He could see it, Melkor standing close to him, guiding his hands, telling him what he wanted. A slight smiled pulled at one corner of his lips. Or maybe Melkor would demonstrate on him first... It wasn't a bad image. He didn't even notice when he began to nibble at his lower lip as the slight smile stretched into a big one. He could imagine Melkor instructing him in how to place his hands just so, what to do with them once there. He found a strange pleasure in his imaginings; one he couldn't quite explain. It was different to picturing the Elves. The Elves didn't make his chest feel tight. Thinking the phenomenon strange, he decided to make a note of it. Who knew, it could be relevant to his analysis later.

 

Ah, fresh parchment! A beautiful thing. Stationary, like honey, was one of life's little pleasures. Just look at it, waiting for the elegant curve of his quill strokes as he arranged them in perfectly ordered lines. He slowly drew his fingers over the preserved animal skin, taking in all the little irregularities unique to this sheet. It wasn't wholly smooth; it wasn't exactly rough though either. Melkor's skin might feel like this, though hopefully with a bit more life in it, a bit more warmth. Mairon imagined the gentle heat that would radiate from his master's body as his fingers ghosted over exposed flesh, tracing every outline as he had seen one of the Elves do, feather-light and seemly teasing. Something fluttered in his chest. Melkor might even make some of those delicious soun...

 

Mairon pulled his hand away from the sheet with a gasp and snapped open eyes he hadn't realised he'd closed _. Where had those thoughts come from?_ He stared down at the sheet, half in accusation, half in fear. He cradled his hand against his chest as if it'd just been burnt. The fluttering, he realised, had been his own irregular breathing. Those thoughts had not been the purely instructional thoughts of a few moments ago. They were... He felt... His heart hammered inside his chest.

 

He took a few moments to recompose himself, a scowl taking up residence on his face. Obviously, his conscience wasn't impressed with him skiving for the day and had chosen to punish him. Deciding that, somehow, this was the most logical explanation he moved back to the antechamber to tackle the mountain.

 

He grabbed the first pile and brought it back to his office, turning it over before placing it on his desk. Those at the bottom would be the oldest and so most in need of his immediate attention. Turning over the first letter, his very soul nearly sighed as he saw the almost illegible scribble on the envelope. Orcish handwriting if ever he'd seen it. He couldn't quite be certain, but it looked as if the sender had spelled his name wrong. Marion? It was going to be a long day.

 

He opened the letter and discovered that his name had been misspelled here too. At least, he thought so anyway. The handwriting was truly terrible. See, this is why he had tried to convince Melkor that it couldn't hurt to invest in a little more education for those that served them. Melkor, of course, had scoffed at the idea. Melkor wasn't the one reading the letters. He quickly glanced at the sender's details and without bothering to look at the rest of the letter's contents he made to take out a sheet to begin a not very gentle reminder that, if you're going to contact your leader's second in command, and a Maia no less, it'd probably be a good idea to learn how to spell his name.

 

His hand hovered over the sheet, hesitating before he could touch it. He scolded himself for his silly behaviour. Was he, Lord of Werewolves and Lieutenant to Melkor, actually made nervous by writing materials? He scoffed at himself before grabbing the sheet. What had he to be nervous of? So what if he was a little excited about his planned foray into the bizarre mating practices of the Elves? His arrangement with Melkor had been made purely for interest's sake. Melkor, out of the boundless kindness of his heart, had offered to humour Mairon's curiosity. About the act in general. Because that was where his curiosity lay. Nowhere else. You could almost call it a professional interest. Weren't the Ainur meant to know all these things about the Children? Yes, that was it. Professional interest. Purely professional. _Breathe_.

 

Mairon had always been a curious person. There was nothing wrong with that, he felt.  Though, he was surprised at how the chance to study his master's form up close intrigued him in a way that it never had before. How would it feel to be permitted to trace old scars? Would he smell any different when drawn that close? What would the slip of silk sound like as Mairon slowly pulled away his clothing? More importantly, would Melkor enjoy studying Mairon's form also?  A shudder ran through Mairon's body as heat rushed to his cheeks. Most alarmingly, he noticed that his leggings had become somewhat less roomy than they had been when he put them on.

 

Nope! Nope, nope, nope! Mairon slammed his hands down on his desk and pushed himself out of his seat. This would not do. Clearly, his conscience was still unimpressed at him hiding in his office. That was definitely it. He needed to go do some proper work. The forge might be a good idea. Surely banging something would get these images out of his mind! The paperwork had been waiting this long, it could wait a little while more.

 

With that, Mairon left for the forges, listing the melting points of all known metals at varying degrees of purity to distract himself. Just in case.

 

It was an effective distraction too. A little too effective perhaps, because the next thing he knew, he had rounded the corner straight into another being. Knocked off balance, the only thing that had prevented his falling flat on his ass was the hand that had reached out and grabbed his forearm. He allowed himself to be pulled upright. Regaining equilibrium, Mairon took a step back from his saviour and found himself face-to-face with his herald, Thuringwethil. She was rubbing her forehead where Mairon's chin had collided with her head in their crash.

 

"Thuringwethil. My apologies, I... I should have paid more attention to where I was going." He scratched nervously at the back of his neck, making a sound that was probably intended as a nonchalant chuckle but came out a little too panicked to actually achieve that effect. Thuringwethil actually took a step back, fixing him with a look somewhere between concern and alarm.

 

"Are you alright?" she asked.

 

"Perfectly fine." Uncomfortable with how close together they stood, he took three or four steps back away from her. He clasped his hands together in front of himself, hiding his crotch, just to be on the safe side

 

"Are you certain?"

 

"Of course, I'm certain. I think I know what I'm feeling. How could I not know my own feelings?" The irony was lost on him.

 

Thuringwethil arched an eyebrow at the words spewed far too quickly to be convincing. He had taken another step backwards. Then something occurred to her. He _had_ just come back from Angband... Maybe he'd brought some back with him again. She smiled.

 

"Mairon, were you and our Lord...trying things again?"

 

Mairon inwardly cringed at her choice of wording, though he knew what it was she was really referring to. "I assure you Thuri, I'm sober. I was just a little too lost in my thoughts on the way to the forge". With a little space between them, his head cleared enough to actually make the words sound convincing this time. He noticed the slight pout on her face and chuckled. "Sorry to disappoint."

 

With an exaggerated look of disappointment on her face she replied, "But you were such fun the last time!"

 

"I'm not certain that there are many others in this tower who would agree with you."

 

Thuringwethil snorted, remembering what a nuisance Mairon had made of himself. Not that she had minded. The look on the cook's face when they had found their master, sitting on the floor of the pantry and eating all the sweet treats, had been priceless. Even better still had been Mairon's face at being caught.

 

"Oh, I nearly forgot! I have a welcome home present for you," she gave him a mischievous grin.

 

"A present?"

 

She made a show of dramatically producing something from behind her back. "Behold! The report of goings on while you were away," she reverently held the document out to Mairon with both hands, smiling. She knew how much he loved admin and had requested that she be the one to deliver the report to him.

 

Though he did his best to maintain his composure, Mairon recoiled at the sight of the parchment. "Just leave it on my desk!"

 

"But…"

 

"I have to go!"

 

And with that, he pushed past her and disappeared down the corridor.

 

"That Maia is definitely up to something," she muttered after him.

 

* * *

 

There was nowhere in all of existence, or outside of it in fact, that Mairon felt more at home than in a forge. Minas Tirith had not initially had its own forge but Mairon had had a small one installed when he had taken the tower. It wasn't anything special. Mostly, it took care of tool repair and the likes. There were no grand works being produced here! Despite that, it was Mairon's favourite place in the whole tower. The noise, the heat, the sparking metal, it was home. Those thralls who worked there were used to the Lord of the tower himself arriving and getting stuck into such backbreaking manual labour. They stayed well away from him, knowing that if they ignored him, he'd ignore them. There was a silent arrangement that he was someone else here.

 

Mairon at work was a sight to behold. From the moment he set foot in the forge, gone was the high-ranking officer of the forces of Melkor, replaced instead by a forge-Maia in his element. Total focus was devoted to his craft. Metal took on new shapes under his skilled hand with an unnatural ease. It was impossible for those others in the forge not to be reminded that they stood in the presence of one of the divine beings of their world, even if his divinity had long been corrupted. 

 

Blissfully, Mairon spent the next few hours uninterrupted by strange and uncomfortable images of his master. There was nothing but him and his craft. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. In his furious desire to occupy his mind, he had managed to complete all outstanding tasks of the forge staff in the short time he'd been there. Now they all, including Mairon, stood in awkward silence, twiddling their thumbs. He took it as his cue to leave. 

 

Making his way back to his chambers, Mairon was in far better form than he had been earlier, already dismissing his earlier panic as fanciful nonsense. That said, he still felt that it was best to keep himself occupied with work. Before doing that though, he would need to clean himself up. He made his way to his washroom.

 

Once there, he caught sight of his reflection in the little mirror, flushed and sweaty with exertion. And, much to his annoyance, that was all his imagination needed. The sight wasn't a million miles away from how the Elves had looked when they had finished. He couldn't help but wonder if this was what he would look like when he and Melkor were done. Strands of hair were stuck to his face with sweat, while heat and effort had coloured his cheeks. He wondered if Melkor would like the sight. Then he wondered why he cared what Melkor thought. Melkor was assisting him in conducting some research, why did it matter if Melkor found him pleasing? It was a question Mairon had no idea how to answer. He just knew that it was important.

 

Mairon had seen his master in a similar state before, in battle. His pale skin had glistened, except for where it was darkened by dirt and dried blood. Much of his hair had been pulled out of its restraints and there had been a wild look to his gaze. Mairon had been transfixed. At the time he had assumed what he had felt was something akin to respect or awe. Now, he was not so sure. Another word came to mind, one that he had heard the mortals using on numerous occasions, _attraction_.

 

He snorted at the absurdity. Of course, he was attracted to Melkor. All Maiar were attracted to their Valar. Like satellites, they were pulled in by the gravity of these more massive beings. That was the way it was supposed to be. A Maia without a Vala was a sad, bereft thing. The thought alone made Mairon shudder. Maiar were drawn to these sources of greater power like moths to flames and they drew strength from their bond. The Maiar held the Valar in awe, probably more than any other of the beings in Arda. Of course, Mairon wanted to always be in Melkor's presence, to be close to him, to be praised and loved by him. That was what all Maiar wanted, wasn't it?

 

Mairon had never thought of his relationship with Melkor in any other light. Melkor was his master and his oldest friend. He had always been content with that, but as he looked into the eyes of his dishevelled reflection, he found himself feeling surprisingly less than content. Melkor's suggestion had given him a glimpse of something he hadn't known he wanted, hadn't even known was an option. He didn't quite understand it. All he knew was that the idea of sharing in such an intimate-looking act with Melkor thrilled him in a way that was completely alien to him, even if he did still find the Elves' actions confusing.

 

He frowned at this inconvenient turn of events. This wouldn't do at all. Such thoughts about his master were...messy. Mess interfered with the smooth running of things. The smooth running of things was of paramount importance. Anything that hindered this was not to be tolerated. Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against the mirror, hoping the cool of the glass would dispel some of the fog gathering in his mind. This was not to be tolerated. Not to be tolerated.

 

He stood a long moment like that, eyes closed, until the cold of evaporating sweat became too distracting. It was time to clean himself off. He knew it was pointless to attempt any more work once he was done his bath, but the morning's plan of hiding away on his own in his office suddenly seemed achingly lonely. Perhaps Thuringwethil could be convinced to finish that bottle of wine with him. She was usually fairly good at cheering him up and she rarely said no when he asked for some of her time.

 

With that plan in mind, Mairon stripped off his sweat-stained clothes and prayed that he wouldn't be plagued by any more fantasies while he tried to bathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this still ended up being a little more melancholy than originally planned (the original plan involved zero (0) melancholy!), but I think it still fits? Though, I will admit to having struggled with this one, so if you do have any constructive criticism, it's welcome.
> 
> Anyway, just to add, I've started up a tumblr where I post up links to my writing as well as stuff about my writing (and a bizarre amount of Mairon based musings, because who doesn't love a good Mairon?). The name's Sorcha-Eilís over there, so if you've the time reblog this chapter maybe, perhaps, please?


	4. In Which There Seems To Have Been A Misunderstanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mairon and Melkor have a chat and things get a little awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned!! So, there was a slight delay with this chapter... there were some major life events going on, it wasn't always easy to sit down and write, but I have not abandoned this fanfic! This chapter actually ended up being quite long so I split it into two, so just to note that this is now actually the second last chapter, not the last.
> 
> Content warning!! There is a reference to non-con in this chapter. Nothing happens in this chapter, there is no description, it is something a character says (they suggest an Elf for Mairon's 'research').

Not long had passed before Mairon was summoned back to Angband. Melkor had called a meeting with all his top-tier officials. The prospect of, once again, being at his master's side had ignited a spark of excitement in Mairon that had almost made him feel sick. These strange new feelings had shown no sign of abating in the months since he had first discovered them. They were irritating and inconvenient. They threatened to overwhelm him at times and were just generally a nuisance. He would not tolerate such nonsense. He was the master of his emotions, not the other way around and, as if to prove the point to himself, he had _really_ taken his sweet-ass time about travelling north. Unfortunately, however, all procrastination must come to an end at some point and he now found himself standing in the stable yard of Angband, handing over his horse to be fed and watered. He was the last to arrive.

"So, you finally decided to grace us with your presence?" Gothmog strolled into the yard, giving Mairon a deeply insincere bow as he did so.

Mairon pulled a face at the nearest stable hand before turning to fix the other Maia with an equally insincere smile.

"Gothmog! How kind of you to go out of your way to come welcome me. Though, I must say, I'm a little surprised at your choice of greeting. I wasn't aware you were familiar with such a thing as 'grace'". The level of sickly sweetness in his voice was something he had precisely calculated centuries ago as being the perfect level for getting under Gothmog's skin. It worked. His face dropped.

"Our master says you're late."

Mairon allowed his own face and voice to similarly drop.

"Oh yes, I'm sure our master sent you all the way down here to tell me that."

" _I'm_ telling you. We've been waiting. I know you think everything revolves around you, but you'd really want to remember your true place once in a while, _Lieutenant_. Quite frankly, I'm surprised the master himself isn't down here to tell you off, especially after the performance you put in at the last meeting."

"Excuse me? My place??"

Mairon took a step towards Gothmog, attempting to square up to the significantly larger Maia. In terms of Will, the two were pretty much equal. In terms of size, however, Mairon's Elven form, though tall by Elven standards, was practically a dot next to the dread beast of flame and shadow standing in front of him, and no amount of hands on hips was going to fix that. To any onlooker not familiar with who the two Maiar were, Mairon's challenge would have been laughable. In reality though, if the two did come to blows, they'd certainly level the stable and probably many of the surrounding buildings too.

"Gothmog, Mairon is already late enough without you detaining him in the stable yard."

The two Maiar started at the sound of their master's voice. Both turned towards the gateway to the fortress where they saw a rather unimpressed looking Melkor standing under the archway.

"Forgive me, my Lord, I was just-"

"Just presuming to speak for me in the discipline of my subjects," Melkor interrupted the balrog.

"Never, my Lord!"

"Go inside, Gothmog. Prepare the others for the meeting. I'll deal with Mairon myself."

Gothmog bowed to his master before running back inside. Once he was gone, Melkor turned his attention to Mairon.

"Where the fuck have you been? The others arrived over a week ago."

Even while the subject of his master's anger, Mairon could barely suppress the surge of excitement rising in his chest at their being reunited. Afraid that his control would slip if he attempted an answer, he kept silent and stared back at Melkor. He fixed him with a look he hoped radiated his usual arrogance, haughtiness and general sense of 'I'm my own Maia, I do what I want'. In reality, Melkor thought he looked like a naughty child caught red-handed doing something they shouldn't.

"Get inside. There are things to discuss."

* * *

Many hours later, an end was finally called to the day's discussions and Mairon now, once again, found himself sitting opposite his Lord across the dinner table. During the meeting he had played the perfect lieutenant, throwing himself into the debate and, most importantly, staying alert and attentive this time. It had mostly been to distract himself from Melkor's proximity, but it seemed to have the added benefit of appeasing his master's anger at his lateness. Now, Melkor was in genuinely good humour as the food was laid out before them.

Mairon was busy sipping his wine and eying up the roast chicken when Melkor, smiling, said,

"So, how has work on your... hypotheses been coming along since our last chat?"

Mairon spluttered into his cup, caught quite off guard by Melkor bringing the topic back up so soon and so bluntly. He'd been hoping he'd have forgotten. Once he had regained his breath (and he hoped his composure), he answered.

"I haven't given it much thought lately," he lied, "I've been busy with my work. You hardly expected me to be preoccupied with the Elves this entire time? No, I've lost interest. There's been far more important matters for me deal with these past few months."

Mairon hoped that if he made the topic seem far enough beneath him, he could get Melkor to drop it. Melkor, however, had seen the reaction to his question and knew full well that that was not the case. He knew his lieutenant. He also knew when he was being lied to.

"Pity," he said in a tone of mock disappointment, "I had found you the perfect subject for your experiment. I think you'd like her if you saw her. An Elf, of course. A lovely creature. I know how you're always going on about accuracy in your experiments, making sure they mimic the real situation as closely as possible, changing as few of the elements as possible. So, I thought you might appreciate an Elf to study your Elves."

Melkor glanced back to Mairon, confident that he had piqued the Maia's interest. However, the expression that looked back at him was far from interested.

"'Her'?" Mairon couldn't quite hide the disappointment in his tone. The more logical part of his brain told him that this could be his way out of this bizarre predicament he had gotten himself into. The rest of his brain, on the other hand, just felt hurt. Had he misunderstood Melkor's offer?

Misinterpreting Mairon's hesitation, Melkor leaned back in his seat and gave the Maia a knowing smile.

"Ah, I see. My apologies. Leave it with me for another while and I can find you a him if you'd prefer?"

As Melkor spoke, Mairon felt his chest tighten more and more. Not the same excited feeling he had come to associate with his fantasies of Melkor. This feeling was heavy and unpleasant and lonely. So, he _had_ misunderstood Melkor's offer. He knew he should be happy. This way there was no need to complicate his relationship with Melkor. There was no chance of Melkor discovering his secret longing. That is, if he could get his emotions under enough control to answer Melkor's new offer. He fidgeted in his seat, teeth worrying at his lower lip.

Seeing this discomfort, Melkor's smile dropped. He sat forward in his seat and fixed Mairon with a serious, but caring look.

"There's nothing wrong with that, you know. I've done it with plenty of hims! It's great! It's alright if that's what you want, Mai."

Mairon nodded slowly. One leg bounced under the table while he tried to decide on a response. He avoided Melkor's eyes while he gathered his thoughts. The silence only deepened Melkor's worry.

"Mairon, has something happened? You were so excited about this the last time we met. You had theories! I know what you're like, you don't just drop something you're that invested in."

Mairon shook his head. _Has something happened?_ Where would he even begin? How could he explain the feelings that had taken root over the last few months and still refused to be pulled out? How could he explain that some random Elf Melkor threw his way wouldn't give him what he wanted? The Elves he had watched had been close, connected, like himself and Melkor. It wasn't something that he could emulate with a stranger. How could he admit to such inappropriate thoughts about his master as those that had been plaguing his mind? Especially now that it was made clear that Melkor had never intended to have sex with him in the first place!

Mairon must have taken too long to respond because when next Melkor spoke the sound of his voice came from right by his side. Melkor had left his place at the other end of the table and was now standing next to the Maia, fixing him with a worried look.

"Mairon, look at me."

He couldn't. What if Melkor could read what was written all over his face? Mairon's breathing quickened as the panic kicked in. Would Melkor be angry? He'd probably be angry, furious even. This time, surely, Mairon wouldn't have as much stepped over the line as vaulted over it. No, he couldn't look at Melkor until he regained some semblance of composure.

When Mairon still didn't meet his gaze, Melkor reached down, gripped Mairon's chin and pulled his face up to look at him. Wide golden eyes stared up at him, looking like they'd rather be anywhere else but here. Melkor really started to wonder at what could have spooked Mairon like this. Something had to have happened and Melkor would find out what it was.

Melkor repositioned his hand to a less aggressive hold of Mairon's face. Mairon's heart hammered in his chest at the contact. His master's fingers were warm and coarse against his cheek. What he wanted was so close and yet so far. He didn't dare reach out for it and yet his resolve was waning in the light of Melkor's concerned gaze. No-longer able to resist, he closed his eyes and with a small sigh nuzzled his face into Melkor's palm. He stayed there a moment, his heart rejoicing at the warm roughness of his master's hand on his cheek.

Melkor froze, uncertain of how to respond. This wasn't quite where he had seen this conversation going.

"Oh."

It was the most he could manage. Mairon's eyes snapped open and he jerked his head away from his master's hand. Horror gripped him as he slowly came to realise what he had just done. He had as good as confessed. And now Melkor stood there looking at him like _that_. His panic only grew as the awkward silence stretched on.

"My Lord, forgive me! I... I... I..." he trailed off. This wasn't exactly something he could lie his way out of, but he had no idea where to find the words to explain himself either.

Melkor cleared his throat and took an awkward step back. Mairon was horribly aware of the distance now between them.

"Well, that's... emm... I can't say I saw that one coming..." Melkor didn't quite know what to say either.

"My Lord, I am so, so sorry. You should punish me for my impure thoughts whatever way you see fit. It's just... When we last spoke about this and you offered to help, I thought you were offering to... _help."_ Mairon found himself looking at everything but Melkor as he spoke. While he didn't seem particularly angry now, Mairon knew how quickly that could change, he wanted to be careful, "You seemed interested in the results of my research. I thought you wanted to be more involved and the more I thought about it..."

"The more you _wanted_ me to be involved?"

Mairon's heart hammered in his chest. Melkor had discovered his shameful secret. Well, technically Mairon himself had given it away, but that hardly mattered now. What mattered was how Melkor would react. He seemed to be thinking. The two sat in what Mairon felt was the most silent of silences ever to happen in Arda. Finally, Melkor spoke.

"Go get your notes."

Mairon blinked up at him.

"My Lord?"

"How do you expect us to carry out your research without your notes? And I know you've already written some. Knowing you, you've probably kept track of all those _impure thoughts_ that you've been having for future reference."

Mairon blinked some more. Was Melkor offering him what he thought he was offering him? Or was this a trap? Maybe he'd get angry once he saw the notes. Melkor was right, Mairon had kept a meticulously detailed account over the last few months of the various thoughts that had popped into his head, the circumstances that he believed that had caused him to think these things as well as the...eh...physical responses that they had elicited. He had made them on the assumption that he and Melkor were on the same page, now that he knew that he had misinterpreted Melkor's offer he was far from eager to share his writings. Melkor grinned at the conflict on the other's face.

"Oh, these will be interesting, won't they?"

With that, he grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses off the table and made his way to his bedchamber to wait.

Mairon still couldn't quite wrap his head around all that had just happened. He remained motionless in his seat for a short while. This was really happening. Melkor was waiting for him just down the hall. His head swam with thoughts of smooth skin and not so gentle touches. Slowly, a grin spread across his face as an excited warmth spread throughout his body. This was really happening. Melkor had not been angry and this was really happening! He better go get his notes!

It took all his immense force of will to refrain from running back to his own chambers through the corridors of Angband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we have it! I hope it was even a little bit worth the wait? As always, feel free to leave a comment (concrit welcome! Even if it's just to point out a typo! Seriously though, there's this one typo that I spotted but can't seem to find again and it's really annoying me, so if anyone sees it please tell me!)
> 
> Edit:The typo has been found and fixed!!


End file.
